


Left behind

by BourbonKid



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Pining, suggested perversion but nothing too explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 01:24:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6449893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BourbonKid/pseuds/BourbonKid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brock would never admit it but he does get lonely each time Jack is gone on a mission without him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Left behind

Brock would never admit it but he does get lonely each time Jack is gone on a mission without him. It happens, when he’s hurt or Jack’s expertise is needed in the field while Brock’s stuck with babysitting Captain fucking America and his goddamn STRIKE team.

Since they’ve met – back in the day, when they’d both still been fighting for the army – they’ve been by each other’s side almost constantly. Years have passed since they’ve left the godforsaken desert behind but they’ve only grown closer with each day gone by.

They’d started of as nothing more than comrades in arms but they’d been a perfect fit right from the start. Soon enough, they’d made a name for themselves so it was only natural for them to stick together, even when HYDRA hired them.

By now, there’s nothing comradely about their relationship. Well, at least Brock doesn’t bend over for his other teammates. In fact, he doesn’t know what they are exactly but he doesn’t question what they have, either.

No one has to know that they’re more than colleagues, more than friends anyway. That they don’t just spend Friday nights at Jack’s house to hang out after work. That they don’t meet up at Brock’s place to simply watch the game and drink beer. That they actually fuck each other’s brains out as soon as they’re alone and that it’s been this way for a long long time.

As long as no one knows, it doesn’t matter that Brock would rather spend his weekend at SHIELD’s headquarters, hitting a punching bag until his knuckles bleed than go home and face his empty flat. Because for all his bravado about being a loner and a no-strings-attached-kinda-guy, he misses the sex and the cuddling and the affection quite a lot when Jack isn’t around.

And Jack wouldn’t be Jack if he didn’t pick up on Brock’s needs.

So Brock is only mildly surprised when Jack’s grin turns feral as they say their goodbyes. They’re lucky to catch a moment alone before Jack has to leave and Brock’s determined not to make a big deal out of Jack’s departure. He feigns indifference but the provocative grin makes him raise one questioning eyebrow at his lover.

There’s movement outside, people hurrying past the meeting room they’ve stepped into and Brock’s really not keen on Rogers stumbling in on them. “What?”, he growls, aiming for annoyed but ending up rather whiny. Damn Jack and his fucking ability to turn Brock into a clingy bitch. He should get laid while Jack is gone, that would show the bastard and wipe that grin right off his face. Only, they’re pretty exclusive – at least that’s what Brock figures from Jack’s possessive behavior each time a guy looks at him the wrong way.

Jack’s eyes sparkle and instead of an actual answer, he reaches for something stuck in the back of his pants. For a split second, Brock’s almost sure that Jack’s going to draw on him but it’s just an instinctive reflex. Then Jack pulls an empty plastic bottle out in the open and steps right into Brock’s personal space. It’s small, half a liter at most and Brock has to wonder what Jack has cooked up this time.

Jack pushes the bottle against Brock’s belly, knuckles brushing over his abs deliberately. The plastic crinkles in Jack’s grip and the man leans in real close, purring right into Brock’s ear.

“Fill that up for me while I’m gone?”, he suggests lowly.

Brock swallows hard. He doesn’t have to ask what Jack is talking about and he can feel his body responding to Jack’s words already, his resolve crumbling. He's definitely going to jerk off into that damn bottle at least twice a day, like Jack's obedient little whore. His pupils blow wide and he exhales softly, much to Jack’s delight. The asshole has the audacity to chuckle, obviously pleased with Brock’s reaction.

More voices become audible from beyond the door and Brock can feel the tension running through Jack’s frame. The man pulls back slightly, just enough to bring their faces together. His lips ghost over Brock’s for a moment, suggesting a kiss but not quite touching for real. Brock wants to cross that last inch between them, to lick into Jack’s mouth and claim what’s rightfully his. But this is neither the time nor the place to give in to his desires so he takes hold of the plastic bottle instead. Jack transfers it into Brock’s grasp, his fingers lingering on Brock’s before he steps back.

Their eyes meet and they hold each other’s gazes for a heartbeat, communicating in their own unique way. Then Jack breaks the contact by turning around and crossing the space between himself and the door with long strides.

His hand is already on the handle when Brock speaks up again. “Jack?”

The name rushes out of him before he can stop himself. “Yeah?”, Jack asks, glancing back over his shoulder with a frown.

“Be safe”, Brock tells him after a pause, cursing himself inwardly for his desperate tone.

A rare genuine smile tugs at Jack’s lips as he answers while he opens the door and leaves Brock with the bottle clutched to his belly. The plastic seems to gain a sudden weight in Brock’s grasp.

Jack’s last words hang in the air long after the man himself is gone.

“You too.”


End file.
